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Somewhere In Time


Please pardon my lack of ability to communicate in a clear and concise fashion.

The heat from summer like temperature induced drowsiness, which effort to keep eyelids opened a futile effort.
So this fellow relented to visit zzz land.
Thus mere moments ago, while adrift in deep, profound and tranquil sleep (which seemed to encompass more than the usual one hour or so dog gone cat nap) an undetectable transformation quietly, softly, and subtly jettisoned me from the here and now to the flux of events awash mid eighteen hundred America.
Prior to waking from this hypnotic, trancelike state (populated with exquisite and psychedelic dreams nearly true to realistic personages) held me spellbound.

Akin to a frictionless, gliding locomotion mechanism (safely and securely transporting human cargo known as Matthew Scott beyond present) ferried me across corridors, labyrinths and passageways countless decades ago, I absorbed the ambient mind-set, beliefs, creeds, ethos, gentility, integrity, morality, nuanced opinions, political thought-processes, vices and virtues of men and women, who accident of fate writ their biographies cradle to grave scores pf years ago.

After an instantaneous indeterminable interval of fleeting seconds or minutes, a blinding flash indicated that space-age contrivance approached speed of light, which pure energy form accompanied with surrealistic kaleidoscope of brilliant and spectacular colors, which virtual phenomena quite visible even with protective gear donned over entire head.

Soon cessation of warp speed ceased with nary audible clue, and total darkness descended.
Awareness (although entire corporeal being still remained held in semi-unconscious state) provoked gradual wakefulness to occur.
Nerve endings began to tingle and twitch and freedom to move limbs triggered reflex to arise and stand up on firm ground.

At first glance, I detected an immediate alteration in the once familiar external environment evident from whence departure took place here in Lower Merion, Pennsylvania. Silent exultations of assorted emotions softly passed thru these closed lips.
Changes extant could be seen in all directions.
Before steadying myself on this slender legs, a temporary hesitancy and uncertainty prevailed what decision to adopt. An automatic impulse to walk toward home the most natural destination worthy of consideration. All the while, a sense of déjà vu predominated.

The landscape appeared vaguely familiar and the meteorological conditions nearly identical to very recent traipse across topography. Nonetheless, I proceeded. After a rather prolonged visual observation that nothing looked familiar increased excitement, intrigue and puzzlement arose.

No need be worry myself and provoke undue anxiety. Without further ado about nothing, I (King Lear) headed toward the shade offered from a large tree. Soon after comfortably seating this limber and slender physique in the Yoga lotus asana, I reached inside the knapsack (kept close to my person since the initial embarkation) and began to read a book within the genre of national conflict that rent asunder and nearly tore the fledgling roots of democracy from this continent.

The inimitable and prestigious raconteur (magically attired in avant-garde couture pertinent to the fashionable citizen of chosen episode) found himself aroused from awesome visionary experience (vivid imagination easily sparked from words on paper) by a curious (rag tag) group of bystanders who curiously scrutinizes as if I came from another planet.

A collection of ordinary looking folk immediately queried per the happenstance that found me in the country of Philadelphia circa eighteen hundred and sixty (plus or minus a couple years). They asked innocuous divergent questions at first mainly because exquisite personal apparel, profound wisdom and worldly knowledge appeared more sophisticated than found in this rural locale.
Unsure to affix the label of foe or friend (whereby potential death versus life respectively hung in the balance), a series of incisive (rapid-fire) inquisition conducted sessions scrutinized whether sympathies supported northern (Union) or southern (Confederate) cause.

After cogent and convincing answers to topical and typical inquiries satisfied idle spur of the moment probe (bred from versatility in the arts of debate and rhetoric) reassured motley crew of revulsion against rebellion south of Mason Dixon line, the focus of the dialogue turned to opinions per fiery abolitionist movement afoot and hot button issue of slavery.

Although confident and possessed with intuitive sense that no harm prevailed, I gave measured pause prior to uttering commentary on this controversial and volatile issue.

Awareness incorporated a composite host of irony. 1. Fount of knowledge amassed from poring over treatises that dissected antebellum and post-bellum America surpassed most learned statesperson in newfound context. 2. Purview about such vast wealth of information needed to be held in check. 3. Accent (more accurately local dialect), and English language (presumed mother tongue) usage somewhat dissimilar among commoners separated by approximately half dozen generations distant from each other.

Rather than appear extremely talented with excessive oratorical skill (as if ranked as some supernal being), which vulnerability and weakness (served role of good stead in former existence) would necessitate some prevarication to substantiate highfalutin and pseudo-scholarly flair, I spoke in recognizable and short sentences. In the event a Freudian slip occurred, a quick thinking riposte already filed away to rescue me from a faux pas.

Matter of fact, I perceived respect and reverence on account of displayed personal quality of humbleness. In short order, the majority voted to (s)elect this newcomer as spokesman for loosely scheduled itinerary to voice their cares and concerns in an uncertain and portentous looming event.

Much to my chagrin and pleasant surprise, I received unsolicited nominations to parlay perspicacity in powerful poetry and prose at casual and convenient venues. Accolades lent an ascent to rock star status with standing room only at subsequent habitués as reputation rose.

Odd and rather peculiar that destiny (or near interchangeable term of fate) chose role of public speaker for this accidental tourist (rather introverted and shy to boot) of a bygone yet pivotal drama enshrining (and supposedly guaranteeing) life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness for millions of people today.

How strange (I ruminated), that a providential paradox once again witnessed groundswell of pandemonium and plethora of popularity, which seemed to surge and swirl whenever this pragmatic, principal participant (forced by dint of circumstance to get astride his figurative or literal high horse) to present passionate, philosophical peroration against plight of so called colored people.
Unlike that formative impulse to finesse confidential and secret scheme to extricate and permanently relocate this discontent dreamer outside the world, wide web, I chose to remain to participate in the present dolorous paradigm.

Perhaps, I would be alive and well when curtain closes on this twentieth century. Millennial moment nearly a half-century distant, but attendant forethought already draws fanciful notions with limitless hoopla associated with fin de siecle transition. If you dear reader happen to be caught in the skein of nineteen hundred and fifty America, I cordially enclose futuristic post-dated, postage paid invitations and instructions when to return decision via RSVP.

Said gala affair (mentioned in aforementioned paragraph) slated to feature the articulate, charismatic, enlightened, famous, genteel, humorous, modest and renowned Master Matthew Scott Harris on the podium as keynote speaker. This little known fact unbeknownst to present civilians.

Hundreds if not thousands of speeches plan to be delivered in the interim. Nonetheless, a self-conscious predilection per demeanor as introverted (hence discomfiture predisposed) individual plus a minor congenital mutation (identified as sub-mucous cleft palate) frequently conspire to induce bouts of nervousness and also contribute to even exacerbate uncontrollable psychic plagues of anxiety characterized by panic attacks.
Despite internal agitation, the approving crowds predictably and uproariously applaud excoriations denouncing the glaring shame of human bondage.

The despicable sheer brutality and traumatic cruelty that rent asunder indigenous dark skinned tribes of Africa (and other tropical lands) required marginal persuasion. Ability to evoke images of extreme agony, pain and suffering extant among innocent African victims and venal and vicious indignities suffered for plantation owners selfish and unjustifiable purpose found ready and willing listeners far and wide.

Element of quiet natured defiance (reflected from ambient aura of this generally peace oriented fellow) lent offertory from the radical clique of self-righteous protesters as William Lloyd Garrison, Arthur and Lewis Tappan, and others who formed the American Anti-Slavery Society in Philadelphia. They cordially welcomed amiable yet dynamic hortatory speeches.
Regular broadsides regularly published and described in graphically violent (mainly to communicate and emphasize misery) heart wrenching, vivid illustrations the horrors of this bloody institution.

Other magnanimous personages to enjoin colloquy, voiced and wrote for betterment of dark skinned brethren included Susan B. Anthony, Maria W.Chapman, Wendell Phillips and John Greenleaf Whittier. Even freed and fugitive slaves (Anthony Burns and Frederick Douglas to mention just two outstanding names) complemented and supplemented the mosaic of ardent vocalizations.

John Brown wished the addition of a much lamer personality (none other than yours truly) to help incite the imbroglio at Harper’s Ferry. Prognostication foretold of the utter defeat and disaster and loss of ringleader and sons, which death filled notion prompted a polite disinclination.

Best and most comfortable choice entailed circumscribing parameters of caution and low profile. Allegiance to obey major laws always kept in mind.
Tactic utilizing literary penchant and strength accompanied with a coterie of liberal thinking social activists instrumental to arouse and galvanize somnolent populace toward a united objective. Positive fait accompli, the glorious sought after escort capri shh us legacy.

Esprit de corps (held intact by idée fixe) yielded to sole raison d'être.
Each and every dedicated member enlisted heartfelt commitment and foreswear to sacrifice their very existence.
Definitive goal to eradicate any vestige of abominable enthrallment foisted upon autochthonous persons incorporated tour de force! Needless to say, this immense project dealt with various and sundry trials and tribulations yet prized (and intangible) finale a windfall for the entire race of mankind.

President Abraham Lincoln made his cameo appearance and covertly sanctioned our enterprise and eventually became influenced as can be evidenced with edicts and proposals designated with a government cachet.
His Emancipation Proclamation resonated with echoes of noteworthy sages.
Our sixteenth leader of the country (most bestow the mantle of supreme occupant of White House) presaged the near future chain of events based on his keen insight in conjunction with outpouring of public outrage. Antipathy against evil institution of slavery and genuine and sincere sympathy for those unwittingly bound and shackled like horrible beasts.

Prior to the August miracle condemning the possession of any Homo Sapiens in forced servitude, the legitimate liberation recognized as absolutely necessary to protect life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness as inscribed in the Declaration of Independence.

More and more proponents expressed vociferation at base and soulless Southerners who dealt with and treated brothers and sisters of same species and genus as mere chattel.

Those adept with artistic, poetic and prosaic talent sometimes evoked this abysmal system in mythological analogies and metaphors. Icons such as multi-armed Hydra or single eyed Cyclops meant to underscore the profane injustice.
matthew scott harris bears on shy
why red bull, that the above absolutely true
if in fact, ye plowed thru this long winded
with a thin as gruel sue
pea quality, whether or not you beg to differ
and consider every word nothing but poo.

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Book: Shattered Sighs